


Interrogations

by crimethink



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: "invented" tech, Dialogue Heavy, Humour, Multi, Mystery, Other, detective fiction, everyone loves Jim, i guess it's detective fiction, idk if this tech already exists in the star trek universe, if it already does then i probably butchered it, jim is missing, multiple POVs, space mystery!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimethink/pseuds/crimethink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Kirk has gone missing, and the Enterprise crew are subjected to interrogation by a Starfleet detective. Hilarity ensues as some unsolicited confessions begin to spill out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogations

**Author's Note:**

> Important caveat: I inserted some made-up tech to go with this story, but I'm not sure if something similar already exists within the Star Trek universe. If it does, then I'm really sorry for making a butchered, crappy version of it. Heh.
> 
> This is also the first fic I've written since, like, 2013, and also my first Star Trek fic, so please go easy on me!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and I do not make any profit off this work.

** Interrogations **

 

-

Acting Captain’s Log, Stardate 2262.125.  _Captain James T. Kirk has been missing for an equivalent of seven Earth days, that is one week, and I, as his First Officer, have been automatically assigned as Acting Captain of this ship until he is located. As I have noted before, we have attempted all manner of communication to reach him, have scoured and investigated all corners of this ship, especially the Captain’s quarters, have questioned nearly all the Enterprise crew, and have even sent numerous broadcasts to all major Starbases around the galaxy, but it appears as if the Captain has simply vanished into thin air with seemingly no warning._

_How this is possible is beyond any of our imaginations and eludes any possible logical deduction, including my own. What’s more, I must admit that we are all distressed and concerned over the welfare of the Captain, as he has gone undetected and unseen for so long. As such, we have requested assistance from the Intelligence division of Starfleet, which has sent a most enigmatic detective aboard the ship to investigate these frankly bizarre circumstances…_

-

 

**I.**

**Chekov**

“Please state your name, rank, and occupation for the record.”

“My name is Pavel Andreievich Chekov, and I am an ensign of Starfleet under Captain James T. Kirk. I am assigned as the USS Enterprise’s _nawiga_ —…  _na-wi_ —… ”

Chekov gulped, but that gave him no relief, as his throat was painfully dry from nerves. They weren’t even  _a minute_  into the interrogation yet, but he was already beginning to fidget and shift in his seat. His hands were clamped firmly to the edge of the table, fingertips whitening from the pressure, as what seemed like all the muscles in his body were working against him in his attempt to pronounce the word:

“… _na…wi_ … vi… navi…  _nawigator_ ,”

correctly.

 _Yikes,_ Chekov thought as he felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his forehead. A tiny bulb on the sleek recording device set on the middle of the table—which functioned both as an audio recorder and automatic transcriber—blinked orange, indicating that an unusual string had been detected within the transcription. In other words, the recorder couldn’t understand him.

“…  _Navigator_ ,” he attempted, and the recorder’s indicator bulb blinked green again.

  
The detective cleared his throat. “You understand that under Starfleet regulations, this interrogation is completely obligatory on your part and that you must answer all questions I ask you  _truthfully_.”

“U-understood. May I get some water, please?”

The detective nodded, signalling one of the security personnel to bring Chekov a glass of water. The detective was conveniently sat on the darker end of the conference room, and was dressed in an all-black Starfleet-regulation uniform, making him appear more ominous than he probably really was, although Chekov couldn’t actually properly discern the man’s features due to the cloaking technology which hid the detective’s face. To Chekov, his face was shrouded in pixelation, as if it were a photograph taken with a really, really bad antique camera, and under some really, really bad lighting.  _Like a so-called Nokia mobile phone from the early 21st century_ , Chekov thought to himself. The captain had shown him one of those once upon a time during shore leave, and Chekov couldn’t stop laughing at how adorable the gadget was.

He giggled despite himself, a smidgen more relaxed.

The detective shifted forward and clasped his hands together. “So, Mr Chekov, how would you describe your captain on the day of his disappearance?”

Chekov cast his mind back to the last time he saw his captain. It was along one of the corridors of the Enterprise. The Captain was his usual gregarious self, all composure and charm and confidence from top to bottom, as he made his way presumably towards the bridge with a ghost of a smirk floating on his lips. He had nodded amicably at Chekov on his way, and Chekov, who was going in the opposite direction, remembered blushing as he nodded back and grinned bashfully. Normally, that encounter didn’t strike anyone as anything other than typical, if not a little endearing, but considering how attentive the Captain usually was, and what Chekov was  _clearly_ doing at the time…

_So... the Captain didn’t notice that I …_

“Mr Chekov?”

Snapped out of his reverie, Chekov laughed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I would say he was… uh…. I should say… normal.”

The recorder blinked red, detecting his lie. The detective inched forward closer.

“You are not telling the truth, ensign.”

Chekov licked his lips. “A-alright,” he stuttered. “I believe that the Captain… was not his usual self.”

The recorder blinked green. Chekov heaved a sigh of relief, and then took a sip from the glass of water that had been offered to him. It was ice-cold, which didn’t help to calm him much, but at least it soothed the dryness in his throat.

 _Just try not to look guilty_.  _You had nothing to do with this,_ he tried reassuring himself.  _You were just… doing something… unusual… when it happened._

The detective was quiet for a while as he typed something on the touch-sensitive screen of his PADD, which cast an eerie glow on his glitchy, distorted face. Chekov watched him warily, wondering what the detective was thinking of him now, especially since his answer to the detective’s first question ended up getting registered as a lie.

_Just… don’t let him ask what I—_

Finally, the detective spoke again. “Mr Chekov, where were you at the time that your captain disappeared?”

“I…” Chekov stumbled. “I… I was supposed to be on the bridge, but… I was… in… in my quarters, sir.”

“And may I ask why you were shirking your duties at this time, ensign? What were you doing at the time of Captain Kirk’s disappearance?”

Though the detective made no hint of emotion whatsoever, Chekov shrunk into his seat, cheeks flustering in embarrassment. The cloaking technology not only obscured the detective’s face, but it also altered his voice, making it sound completely devoid of emotion. For some reason, that made the question all the more difficult to answer. It was like being grilled by Commander Spock, but much scarier, and much more embarrassing, and to the _n_ th power.

“I was… attending to something of…  _personal_  importance, sir. Yes, sir, that’s quite correct. It was a personal matter.”

Chekov glanced at the recording device, which was still blinking green. However, if the detective had a discernible face, Chekov knew that this would be the point when the detective’s eyes would be narrowing in suspicion.

“What is this…  _personal_  matter, exactly, ensign?”

_God damn it._

Sure, it wasn’t something he would be court-martialled for, but, if anyone were to find out, his reputation would be completely tainted. He wasn’t sure if it would mean that he would be demoted in rank or something of the sort, but either way, no punishment would be greater than if anyone were to find out, especially—

“Answer the question, ensign.”

 “I… I was... writing a letter, sir."

The words slid off like poison from his lips, but the recorder was still blinking green.

_Please let this be over please let this be over please let this be over._

"A letter… on paper? By hand?"

Using physical stationery was  _extremely_ rare now, and was reserved only for either the most official or the most intimate of purposes. The only paper lying around the ship would either be used for extremely important and classified Starfleet documentation, or _—_ more relevant to someone in Chekov's situation _—_ for extremely important and classified matters of the heart.

"Yes, sir, by hand, sir." 

The detective typed something in his PADD, again, completely without emotion.

“And may I inquire about the nature of this letter, and who it was for?”

Chekov flustered a deep shade of red. He took one look at the two security officers standing guard at the door and grimaced, knowing full well they were listening in and were just  _dying_ to know exactly why Chekov had been acting strange recently. He had recently been making quite a few mistakes—minor, of course, but still mistakes, which was not typical of him—in his navigation, which, although regarded with suspicion by the other members of the crew (especially by Commander Spock), had simply been dismissed by the Captain as fatigue. He had also been caught spacing out on more than one occasion in the cafeteria, seemingly daydreaming. What’s more, Chekov’s lapses into dreamland had been a hot topic of discussion (among others, of course—the Enterprise was always simmering with gossip) among a considerable number of the crew members for the past month on the ship, yet Chekov had successfully kept the reason for everything under wraps for a long time now, which he took pride in.

But, thanks to this damned detective, everyone was going to find out, now.

The detective seemed to stare at him intently, and, with his eyes closed and his head bent down low, Chekov finally managed to say, "It was for Captain Kirk, sir."


End file.
